Roka wasn't well versed in hand to hand combat, but could wield a small knife and shift his body around many potential attacks. He was glad to see he would be free to jump in, if not a little perturbed by Seradell's reaction. He smirked, "My pleasure" he answered pulling from a leather wrap his eating knife and placed himself in front of the girl.
When the first brute lunged them, he aimed a sloppy punch to Roka’s face. He pulled out of the way the blow landing on his chest while his wielded knife sliced at the man’s throat. One thing the wild had taught him, and obviously his fellow Kelvic, was no matter what the creature was a lunge to the neck would end the fight.
The man was barely grazed but stumbled back, surprised. Maybe a drunken fight would be more challenging than he thought. He saw another man approaching his side seemingly more interested in his female company. He turned to the other man and growled.
His hunting instinct kicked in along with an inexperienced anger. The sun slipped in dancing across the side of his face as he approached. When hunting, aim for the weak points.
One. Mobility. He threw a downward kick to the man’s knee, blowing it out. The man fell with an angered grunt. He grabbed Roka's thigh and was greeted with another kick to the face, breaking the man's nose in a gush of blood. "Stand down, human" He barked, the light hitting his golden eyes. The man looked disturbed gazing up at his assailant’s slitted vengeful eyes and began to slide back. Roka turned back to the other man, raising his knife to point at the other man from a few feet away. The man jumped forward.
Two. Groin. He kicked the man squarely in-between his legs, and as he began to fall over Roka raised his knee to strike him in the chest. Roka grabbed the man's hair in a fist and yanked him back, placing the knife to this face and then dragging it down from the soft skin of the man’s eye to the mouth. The blood beaded in bright red drops and he ran his thumb over the liquid, smearing it over the man's cheek and then licked it barbarically.
Soon the other attacker rose, grabbing Roka around his chest pulling him back, as his companion rose striking him across the cheek and then again in the stomach. He looked squarely in his aggressor’s eyes and laughed. He felt the sting of the blows but the ale had helped substantially. No wonder they could easily continue.
Three. Lights out. As another blow stuck his ribs and the guy backed up as if he would deliver a final assault. Roka rolled his weight back against his restrainer’s chest, tucking his knees to his chest. When the fellow came closer, he launched his heels toward his enemy’s chin. The guy stopped and then fell backward, knocked out.
He and the man behind him fell to the floor, the arms around his chest releasing him as he rolled backward over the fallen body and landed crouched, face to face with the drunk. He smirked, his sharp teeth peeking across his lip at the man pale face. “Finished yet?” He cooed. The fallen nodded, continent to take he and his friend home with their lives.
Roka stood and looked to Seradell, his face and chest sprinkle with blood and marks of red painted over the pale skin of his chest and side. He offered her a smile and then glanced to watch through the door, the continuing fight that started it all.